Mice, Plant Murder, and Why I’m Not Allowed In Home Depot Unsupervised

There is a mouse in my living room.

It’s adorable and tiny and has these precious little whiskers and hides behind my couch like the most precious thing in the world… but seriously, this is not your home, mouse, you need to go.

David is out of town at a job interview in the great northwest so this afternoon I went to Home Depot for one thing and one thing only: a mouse trap. One of those ones that traps it but doesn’t kill it so I could let it go at the park and it can have a happy and free mouse life and I can have a happy and mouse-free living room. But I digress.

Hardware stores are right up there with Target on the list of places I’m not allowed to go unsupervised because I go in for $5 worth of things and leave with $50. So I walked into Home Depot with a mission to get my one thing and my one thing only…

except then I remembered we’d talked about getting a hook to hang all the hula hoops so they’re not all laying in a pile in the front entry way…

then I remembered something else…


Everything spiraled out of control until I found myself piling tiny succulents into my cart like a mad woman while my children helped/dared each other to touch the cacti on the next shelf.

A little backstory: You know how some people have a green thumb? I have a black thumb. I kill plants and I kill them with what looks like wild abandon. If we had gone with the “plant, then gold fish, then dog, THEN baby” system I would have died childless. But, much like running, every six months or so I decide that I should own some plants, because I’m from the midwest and somewhere on the hippie scale so by all accounts I should absolutely be able to keep one stupid plant alive.

Compound that with the fact that recently I read a few blog posts from different people about how succulents are damn near impossible to kill. Then I kept seeing them around. Then suddenly I’m in the Home Depot garden department grabbing plants left and right laughing manically “You will never die! Bwahahaha!” as all the innocent bystanders tried not to make eye contact.


So here are my new plants that I am determined not to kill. I planted them in some old coffee mugs I had lying around because they were broken enough not to drink out of but not broken enough for my hoarder self to get rid of them, and cleared all the random junk off the window sill above my sink like some sort of grown up and TA DA! I am now the kind of person who has house plants that are alive!

At least for a few weeks.

Profound Contentment and Monkeys Smoking Pot

So the “big thing” I referenced in February that might be happening was a job. A job for David in San Francisco that he almost got that we both were convince he was going to get because everything seemed to be falling into place and it seemed so so perfect. I was more excited than you could possibly know about the whole thing.

For the past almost 9 months David has been looking at, thinking about, and applying for jobs so we’ve been in this weird limbo of not knowing what’s happening and making no plans that include us having to be here. The house has been totally neglected as well, I have done no projects on it or decorated it in even the smallest way in that time because we legitimately don’t know where we’ll be living in a month and if it’s not here I don’t want to put any holes in the walls or do anything I’ll just have to then undo.

But the job fell through. There is no San Francisco. There is no job. And there is no certainty in our lives.

So I decided fuck it! Waiting is stupid and I’m tired of it so instead I am attempting profound and uncontrolable contentment. I’m going to decorate, I’m going to do projects, and I’m going to put holes in walls when I need to put something up and exactly zero shits will be given about the fact that there’s a very real chance I’ll be undoing all my work very very soon if David gets an offer somewhere else.

So I started by putting up posters. Our room is undecorated and boring, it’s also the messiest place in the house because nobody sees it except us so it’s the last place to get attention.

And don’t you judge me for my posters, they’re awesome. And I figure between them and the massive stacks of children’s books on the dresser I can just claim I’m going for “pregnant college student chic” and start a new trend or something.

So here we go… profound contentment with where I’m at (both personally and geographically) starting now! Any ideas on what I should decorate next?

10 on 10

And by 10 on 10 I really mean 10 on 12… because I knew I was getting a new camera the evening of the 11th and wanted to wait so I could play with it.

So here’s some random and totally unnecessary pictures of my day today of questionable quality because I’m still figuring this camera out.

10 on 10april10 on 10april2

Conversations With Children :: Poop

Finn: “I pooped!”

David: “Yep, Finn pooped. He pooped on the floor.”

Finn: “Yep! I poop on the floor!”

Me: “Why did you poop on the floor?”

Finn: “No… I pee on the floor. I poop on the rug.”

Me: “Ok, but you shouldn’t poop on the floor or on the rug. You should poop in the potty. Remember, we talked about it?”

Finn: “I did poop in the potty.”

Me: “Except you didn’t… because there’s poop on the rug.”

Finn: “No, I poop in the potty last week.”

Me: “Yeah, and that was awesome. But you should have pooped in the potty tonight too.”

Finn: “No mom, I already poop in the potty.”

Me: “I don’t think you understand, you don’t only poop in the potty once… you always poop in the potty. Like, for the rest of your life.”

Finn: “No mama, you don’t understand. I already poop in the potty… remember? So I good now. Now I poop on the rug again because I already poop in the potty.”

The Tornado/Why I’m Terrified of Not Having a Basement

24 years ago today I live through an F5 tornado (the largest category of tornado possible).

That tornado to be specific.

It flew through our town, destroying everything in it’s path including the homes of most of our neighbors. We survived because my dad threw us under a bed in the basement, wrapped in heavy quilts so the flying glass wouldn’t hit us. I was a little kid but I vividly remember being more terrified then I’ve ever been in my life, hearing the cyclone grow louder and louder, every time you thought nothing on earth could get louder it got louder anyway; until eventually I started screaming at the top of my lungs and was completely unable to hear my own voice above the wind.

It’s an interesting story to tell now to people who have never been in a tornado, and when I’m back home if the sirens go off I run to the porch like any good Kansan hoping to catch a site of the storm before it gets too close… but I’d also be lying if I told you that, even now that I live in a place totally void of tornadoes, it doesn’t terrify me not to have a basement I could hide in.

Drunk Bible Stories: Creation

It’s time again for drunk bible story time. That time when all the uber Christians pretend not to be offended that I’m drunk and all the atheists pretend to not be offended that I’m talking about the Bible, and everyone in between pretends to look the other away for this one.

So without further ado… The Creation Myth of Genesis.

Ok so there are actually two creation myths in the old testament. And before all you uber Christians get angry I’m using the term “myth” to describe your religious stories you should look up the term myth because it refers to any story that has been passed down through history and involves deities or a phenomenon of nature, all of which this  involves, so just chill the fuck out because I’m not using the term as an insult.

The first creation myth is from what’s called the Priestly source and it’s a really specific story talking about the seven literal days and God did this, that and the other thing on the first day, second day, third day, etc. It uses a super abstract term god God, it uses a gender specific term for God, that goes through most of Genesis 1st and onward.

Then there’s Genesis 2:4ish and onward… don’t quote me on the exact verse because remember, I’ve been drinking. So that’s called the Yawhist source and it’s generally believed to be written by a totally different author, one that uses a really familial term for God which is interesting, uses a non-gender non-specific term for her/him and is abstract thing talking about how God created all the shit. (S)he created all the things, did all the amazing shit, and all that jazz… and it’s really exciting because the Yahwist source (commonly abbreviated the J source) is all abstract and just focuses on how God is the creator of everything. That’s all in Genesis 2:4 and it’s great. It also doesn’t use a male form for the term “mankind”… just a generic “humankind” form of the word which is pretty cool too. Also, it’s fun to think about how in the P source god creates the “heavens and the earth” and in the J souce God creates the “earth and the heavens”… it doesn’t specific based on a literal historical timeline (because J doesn’t ascribe to that nonsense) but it’s interesting because it shows what that writer is focusing on which is neat.

So God makes all the thing and then tells the people, “Hey y’all don’t eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (which more or less translates to “knowledge of everything”… so basically God said “don’t look all this shit up on wikipedia because that’s how you know everything. Just kidding. Sort of. Just kidding. Only partly kidding.” No really that’s mostly what it means.

I feel like I could ramble about all this jazz all night long… in fact I know I could… the creation myth is interesting as fuck… and it has so many interesing random did-you-know tid bits. But I’ll save that for another drunk night. Have a good one y’all!

My kids swear. What of it?

Before we had children David and I had many deep, philosophical discussion about how we wanted to raise our kids. Many of them have since fallen my the wayside (our kids are now 2 and 4), and many of them have come to fruition.

One of them was about swearing. I was a firm believer that (with the exception of really hurtful of mean comments) our kids should be able to speak without fear or censorship in their own home. After all, who am I to dictate how they think or feel? If they are saying words that I wholeheartedly agree are inappropriate or harmful I would rather explain to them why that word is inappropriate and harmful instead of just forbidding their existence.

But then I had a child who was a complete freak of nature in terms of verbal development.

Yep, Verona was that weird kid speaking in complete sentences at 18 months, including telling the pillars of the church that our dog Barney was an asshole.

And I didn’t know what to do.

I still thought children should be allowed to be honest about how they felt in their own homes regardless of the language… but I also thought words like this would become an issue long after I could properly explain to said child the very complex idea that some words are appropriate in certain contexts (at home, with peers who feel the same way as you, etc) while simultaneously NOT be appropriate in other contexts (at grandma’s house, at church, in front of strangers in the grocery store, anywhere it may make someone feel comfortable, etc).


Ok y’all, truth time. My friend Brittney suggested that I write a post about kids swearing so I started writing the above post about how rarely my kids actually swear since I don’t care when they do… or something….

And while that is true, they don’t swear very often at all, (not nearly as much as I do at least) and I’m sure that’s partially because we’ve never made a big deal out of it… they do swear. And as much as I want to have some lofty explanation as to why that’s ok or why it will serve them in the long run or whatever I’m not going to.

Because honestly? I just don’t care. I don’t care if they say damn it when they drop their toast, I don’t care if they ask where the hell something is when they’re frustrated they can’t find a toy, and I don’t care if they tell Barney to stop being an asshole.

Because sometimes our dog Barney really is an asshole… he is. He’s one of the asshole-i-est dogs that I know.

If my kids call their friend a bitch in anger I’ll be upset (but I’d probably be just as upset if they called them a poopy head in anger). If my kids drop the F bomb (by which I mean “fag”, not “fuck”) I will absolutely immediately step in and explain why the word they use just used is complete inappropriate and unacceptable.

But when one of my kids yells are Barney the dog to stop being an asshole? Well, Barney was probably being as asshole and he should stop.

There’s worse things than my kids being able to call it like they see it.

Verona’s 4th Birthday

Sunday was Verona’s 4th birthday so I gave her this kids quiz my friend Lauren does for her kids every year on their birthdays so you can see how their answers change over the years. I thought it was cute.


What are you going to be when you grow up?
Tall enough to reach the chocolate covered espresso beans in the cabinet.

What’s do you think grown ups do?
They work. And they’re always doing dishes. They’re always like “I need to clean these dishes!”

What are your favorite toys?
Teddy bears, airplanes, and I like my new Anna doll that I got for my birthday.

Who are your best friends?
Sonya, Jordan, and Kristen.

What makes you happy?
Playing. I like to play tag and I like going rock climbing with my dad at the climbing gym.

What makes you sad?

When you dream at night, what do you dream about?
UNICORNS! The unicorns all let me ride on them and it makes me so happy.

What’s your favorite color?

What’s your favorite book?
Any books about unicorns. And the book about when the dinosaurs died.

What’s your favorite movie?
The Croods!

What do you do during the day?
I play.

Conversations With My Husband : Movie Theaters

The conversation that happened between David and I when we got the kids a babysitter tonight and went out to a movie. As we were walking into the theater…

Me: “Wow… are we, are we the only people in here?”

David: “Yep, it sure looks that way.”

Me: “Not even one of the smaller theaters, this is the main freaking theater.”

David: “Hey Jenna, remember that time we bought out an entire movie theater to see a movie all by ourselves and it only cost us $15?”

Me: “It’s too bad it’s not a musical so we could sing along.”

David: “We can sing along without music if we want, nobody is here to stop us.”

Me: “We could sing and dance!”

David: “You could give me a hand job during the movie.”

Me: “Yeah… I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”

David: “But it could. That means there’s hope… I have hope.”

Me: “We can put our feet up without worrying about pissing anyone in front of us off.”

David: “We could… wait for it…” (farts loudly)

Me: “We could sit here and just fart up a storm. We could fart through the whole damn film.”

David: “And every time it starts smelling too bad we can just get up and move to another part of the theater and sit there until we smell it up too.”

And then some old ladies came in and we weren’t alone anymore. So the talking and the farting stopped.

10 on 10

Big things may be happening in the Plaid Sheep household… very big things.  So big in fact I’m not going to tell you until they’re nailed down because I don’t want to jinx it.  (But that’s why I haven’t been around a lot lately.)  Hopefully we’ll know next week and I’ll be able to spill the beans but until then here is my 10 on 10.  Or really my 8 on 10 because I decided at the last minute I hated two of my pictures… but it’s my blog and I can do what I want.

Coffee is happening.
Coffee is happening.
Tiny hands making pancakes.
Tiny hands making pancakes.
Katy Perry the chicken in Rachel's backyard.
Katy Perry the chicken in Rachel’s backyard.
The kids' old mobile from when they were babies (I'm having a quarter life crisis over them growing up right now).
The kids’ old mobile from when they were babies (I’m having a quarter life crisis over them growing up right now).
Afternoon pick me up in my new mug.
Herbs growing above my sink.
Herbs growing above my sink.
Putting away laundry.  Again.
Putting away laundry. Again.
Lazy dog watching the sunset.
Lazy dog watching the sunset.